


Repeat

by togekissies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Holding Hands, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pre-Relationship, graceling AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togekissies/pseuds/togekissies
Summary: A collection of Semishira one-shots that vary in length. Some are canonverse, some are AUs.One: Semi is going on his first mission in a year, and Shirabu is nervous. Unfortunately for him, it's difficult to hide his worry from an empath.Two: Semi wakes up in the middle of the night at Shiratorizawa's training camp.Three: Shirabu's forgotten Semi's birthday. He's more upset about this than he thinks he should be.Four: Shirabu wants something. Semi has to navigate a minefield to figure out what.Five: The only reason the young Lord Eita has to look forward to visiting the king's castle is seeing one of his few friends, a Graceling named Kenjiro.





	1. Supers

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i have a bunch of old short semishira fics floating around my docs that maybe only other one person has seen, so i went and fixed a few of them up. as of right now (1/27/18) i have four i will be posting here for sure, possibly up to six, if i fix the other two up to my satisfaction.
> 
> this one was originally written back in may 2016. i really like the idea of shirabu having future-seeing powers (obviously, since i keep giving him that power in aus), and semi as an empath is just plain interesting imo. i never posted this because it was meant as kind of a... pilot? for this au? for me to get the hang of it. 
> 
> shirabu was supposed to get so frustrated and angry with the team of superheroes he's on he did... something... to betray them... i could never figure out what that something would be, so this au never went anywhere. it was supposed to be a long thing all about semi needling shirabu into opening up about what's bothering him, and shirabu figuring out how to recognize when he's feeling overworked/underappreciated and reconciling with his old team. so anyway this au obviously never came to fruition, but i think this little fic works well enough on its own. enjoy!

Kenjiro pauses just outside the open door to the changing room. Semi is sitting with his back to him, lacing up his boots. It’s been over a year since Kenjiro has seen Semi in his hero suit, and it causes a mix of clashing emotions to rise up from his gut. Kenjiro squashes them down. He can’t afford to distract Semi from his job.

“It’s been a while. How’s it fit?” Kenjiro asks as soon as he feels more himself. He leans against the doorframe.

Semi sighs heavily and hangs his head. “It’s loose,” he mumbles.

“It’s—loose,” Kenjiro repeats.

Semi spins on the bench so he’s facing the door and pinches at the fabric on his arm. He pulls about half an inch of fabric down. “It used to be skin tight,” Semi says. “Hell, it used to be a little _too_ tight. I’m getting out of shape.”

“That sucks,” Kenjiro says, completely unsympathetic.

Normally Semi would glare at him for a shitty comment, but he doesn’t do so much as look at him. Kenjiro hopes he isn’t feeling enough guilt for Semi to pick up on. It is, after all, _his_ fault Semi retired from hero work, and thus his fault Semi is out of shape for the first mission he’s running in over a year.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Semi continues, talking over Kenjiro’s shame. “My strength isn’t impressive compared to some people,” meaning Ushijima, the strongest hero in the prefecture, or Goshiki, their youngest member who wants to surpass Ushijima, or Tendou, when he changes form, or—well, most of their team, “but it _is_ superhuman. I just assumed that was my baseline.”

“You let yourself go,” Kenjiro forces himself to say.

Semi hums, then clasps his hands together and says, “What’s bothering you, Shirabu?”

“Nothing—”

“Don’t even try. You’re so anxious it’s kind of suffocating. Talk to me.”

Kenjiro doesn’t want to. He knows that’s Semi’s job now, that _he_ was Semi’s job for a better part of the past year, but he doesn’t want to bog down Semi with his own problems when his attention is needed elsewhere. Kenjiro stands stubbornly in the doorway, his crossed arms tightening over his chest.

Semi stands up. He takes Kenjiro’s arm, pulls him to the bench, then pushes him down to sit. He then closes the door and locks it. He sits next to Kenjiro and says, softer than he ever has, “Talk to me.”

Kenjiro bites the inside of his cheek. “You shouldn’t be the one doing this.”

“You said I’m the only one who _can_ , didn’t you?”

“I did...” Kenjiro says. “But, you’re out of practice, and you just said you’re out of shape, and—and—”

“And you’re worried about me,” Semi finishes.

“I’m not,” Kenjiro says, even though he knows it’s futile. He’s too worked up to try to hide his emotions. Semi can read him like an open book.

Semi smiles at him reassuringly. “I’ll be okay,” he says. “I’ll have a direct line to you open at all times, so if anything about the future becomes clearer or changes, you can tell me right away.” Semi touches Kenjiro’s arm again. “I trust you. I trust your abilities. I’ll be fine.”

Kenjiro isn’t sure Semi should. “There’s always the possibility that I’m wrong.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

“There’s always the possibility that I’m—I’m only trying to trick you again.”

Semi almost looks amused. “But you’re not.”

“You don’t know that,” Kenjiro says, unable to stop himself. He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. He doesn’t know why he’s getting hysterical. “You didn’t notice the first time!”

This isn’t how Kenjiro wanted this conversation to go at all.

“We’ve both changed, Shirabu,” Semi says. He stands. “Like I said, I trust you. More now than I did before.”

“Oh,” Kenjiro says, quietly.

Semi smiles. He looks the part of a hero, with his tousled hair and worn-in dark green suit. Kenjiro wonders, not for the first time, if something went wrong when Semi got his powers and he wasn’t supposed to be an empath in the first place. He’d suit the role of a typical hero perfectly. He’s not like Kenjiro, relegated to support and bitter. Semi’s stupid enough to trust him, though.

“It’s not stupid,” Semi chides.

“Don’t read my mind,” Kenjiro snaps.

“I can’t, you know that!” Semi frowns, and for the first time he looks like he usually does when he talks with Kenjiro: frustrated. The communicator on his wrist beeps. Semi glances at it and sighs. “I have to go. Put yours on, I’ll talk to you when I’m on the field.”

Semi steps away, reaches for the door, he’s almost gone and— “Wait,” Kenjiro says, grabbing Semi’s arm. Semi looks at him, and drops the doorknob. Kenjiro swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Semi, I—”

It all bursts into his mind at once: Semi, sitting across his cell and refusing to move until he talked; Semi, who always expected and demanded better of him; Semi, fighting for his reindictment to their team; Semi, who constantly struggled to understand him and fought every single stubborn thing he did with equal merit—

Kenjiro’s grip on Semi’s arm tightens. He drops his gaze. He can’t make enough sense of it to form words.

“Hey,” Semi says, voice low. “Look at me.”

Kenjiro does. Semi is smiling. Kenjiro seems to have forgotten how to breathe.

“It’s okay,” Semi says. He touches Kenjiro’s face, brushes it with his thumb. “I know.”

“But,” Kenjiro says, then stops.

“Shirabu— _Kenjiro_ ,” Semi corrects himself. “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kenjiro lies.

“Yes, you do,” Semi says, pressing their foreheads together, and then—and _then_ he kisses Kenjiro. He cradles Kenjiro’s jaw his his hands and _kisses him_. Kenjiro clutches to the front of Semi’s suit and somehow finds it in him to kiss back. He dismissed Semi kissing him as unlikely as Semi surviving one more fight, and yet here he is, kissing him like he’s wanted this as badly as Kenjiro has. And then Semi pulls back, and Kenjiro decides one is not enough.

“Asshole,” Kenjiro says when he finds his voice.

Semi smiles. He’s still stroking Kenjiro’s cheek. “But you feel better now, right?”

He’s right. Kenjiro’s mind is no longer spinning, and things feel much clearer than they have since Kenjiro had his premonition about this battle several hours ago. “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe I don’t. I think I’ll need to run a few more tests.”

Semi laughs, and Kenjiro’s heart _hurts_. He looks so carefree and confident, a far cry from how stressed he was when Kenjiro came in the room.

“Just think about that kiss when you start to get too worked up,” Semi says. “I’d rather have you distracted because you’re annoyed with me than because you’re worried.”

“Don’t say it,” Kenjiro warns.

Semi does say it. “I need to go.” He steps back, but Kenjiro grabs onto him.

“Wait,” Kenjiro says. He summons all of his mixed-up emotions about Semi and holds onto them, hoping that somehow Semi will be able to see all of them and be able to make sense of it all, so Kenjiro can stop obsessing and worrying over it and—

“I love you too, Kenjiro,” Semi says.

Kenjiro stares at him. “Oh,” he says, voice small. “Well. Good.”

Semi ruffles his hair and finally Kenjiro decides to let him go. Semi puts a second communicator, the direct line to Kenjiro, in his ear, then pulls his old mask over his head.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Semi says.

Kenjiro punches him on the shoulder. “Don’t you dare get hurt.”

Semi grins a ridiculous grin, unlocks the door, and leaves.


	2. Handholding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was originally written august 1st, 2015. holy shit! i wrote it two and a half years ago and never posted it anywhere? wild.

Waking up in the middle of the night isn’t out of place for Eita, especially during training camp. The room is always stuffy with so many bodies lying in it, and at least half a dozen people snore on different frequencies. He’s gotten used to it over the years and can usually drown it out, though not always.

What he’s not used to: opening his eyes and seeing Shirabu’s face.

He’s momentarily confused. For years he’s been wedged between Satori and Wakatoshi to keep Satori from jabbering on to Wakatoshi until well past midnight while Wakatoshi tries desperately to get him to shut up. From behind him Eita can hear Satori’s signature sleep mumbling, so he isn’t too far off from normal.

Earlier that evening, after the futons were put out, Eita sat down on one and Shirabu on the next one over, casually enough it looked coincidental. “Maybe he’ll stop being such a cheeky brat through osmosis,” Eita stage whispered to Satori.

“If that’s what it takes to cure him, I’ll be impressed,” Satori whispered back.

Shirabu’s jaw tightened. Eita knew he was fighting not to lecture them on osmosis, if only because he knew Eita was baiting him. “Or maybe you’ll learn to mind your own business.”

Satori laughed. Eita grinned at Shirabu for as long as he dared, switching back to a more neutral expression quickly. No one paid much attention to them after that. The evening went on, the team killing time and acting like idiots until they were finally told to shut up and go to bed. And somehow, Eita managed to fall asleep.

He sleeps on his right side, and Shirabu on his left, meaning they’re sleeping facing each other. The discovery gives him butterflies. He can easily imagine being closer than on separate futons, putting his arm around him and pulling him in, falling asleep with Shirabu’s breath warm on his neck. Shirabu is quiet while he sleeps, too. His face looks more relaxed, and without his usual fierce concentration he looks younger, somehow.

Eita stares as long as he dares. He’s about to roll his head into his pillow and try to go back to sleep when Shirabu opens his eyes and glares. “What the hell do you want?” he hisses.

Another thing about Shirabu is that he wakes up too smoothly.

“Nothing,” Eita says, keeping his voice barely audible. In the spirit of middle of the night oversharing, he adds, “Just admiring you.”

Shirabu glowers. “Well, don’t.”

Eita hums. Impulsively he offers his hand to Shirabu, who looks between it and Eita’s face before tentatively taking it. Eita laces their fingers together, loosely enough that Shirabu can pull away if he wants, then slowly pulls Shirabu’s hand to him until he’s close enough to press his lips to his knuckles.

It can hardly be called a kiss. Shirabu’s eyebrows knit closer together anyway, and his jaw sets. It’s too dark to see if his face is red, but Eita has seen that expression enough to know Shirabu is trying his hardest to pretend he’s not embarrassed.

Eita moves their still linked hands between them. He knows one of them will wake up early enough to move away before the others can see them. “Goodnight, Shirabu.”

“I hope you die in your sleep,” Shirabu mumbles, face half hidden in his pillow.

Eita squeezes his hand, smiling. “Very romantic.”

Shirabu sighs, but there’s no bite behind it. He closes his eyes, still frowning, and soon enough his face relaxes as he falls asleep. Eita smiles lazily, peaceful in the little bubble they’ve carved out in the crowded room, and eventually drifts off.


	3. HBD Semi!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this fic was originally started for semishira weekend, way back in 2016. i started it... on semi's birthday, actually. no wonder i never finished it lol. decided to finish it up recently, and i quite like the result!

When Kenjiro spots Semi in the hall during lunch, arms laden with brightly wrapped gifts, his stomach sinks into panic. He forgot Semi’s birthday.

Well, he hadn't exactly forgotten in the traditional sense of the word. Kenjiro knew full well what date Semi's birthday fell on. But when he sat and tried to think of something to do for his birthday the implications terrified him, and he put it out if his mind. And because he was too much of a stubborn ass to even spring for something as simple as a card, Kenjiro forgot Semi's birthday.

Tendou is with Semi, as usual, and he keeps trying to steal some of the snacks Semi is carrying. Semi twists to protect his presents from Tendou’s prying hands. They are so caught up in their argument that they walk right on past Kenjiro without noticing him.

One of Kenjiro’s classmates, a chatty girl who seems convinced Kenjiro could steal her position as class president if he wanted it, pops up at his side. “Weren't those two in the volleyball club?”

“Yes,” Kenjiro says, knowing full well she already knows that. Everyone knows who is, or was, in the volleyball club. She straightens up and smirks a little. Kenjiro thinks she must be happy he was chosen as the next captain of the volleyball team, because that makes him too busy to be class president.

“They're very loud,” she says, then she leaves him to return to their classroom.

Kenjiro lingers a few moments more. The bell signaling the end of lunch rings, and he curses himself for being overcome with disappointment. What did he expect, Semi to come back and lecture him about how rude it is not to wish him a happy birthday? He walks back to his classroom in a foul mood.

-

By the time practice rolls around, Kenjiro has rationalized away his bitter feelings. He isn't obligated to do anything for Semi's birthday. He never has been. And besides, Semi made it clear after his graduation from the club that Kenjiro should focus on pulling his team together. Semi is simply no longer a part of said team.

Kenjiro laces his shoes, pretending that the pit of disappointment is gone from his gut. Goshiki stands in front of him, and the disappointment turns to dread.

“I want to practice overhead receives!” Goshiki announces.

Kenjiro looks up, incredulous. Goshiki is barely competent at regular receives. He takes a breath, then says, “Why?”

“Because I think Karasuno is working on them!” he says. “Hinata is really cagey and won't tell me anything for sure but that's what I think!”

“We’re on Shiratorizawa, Goshiki,” Kenjiro says in a measured tone. “Not Karasuno. We're going to practice like we have been.”

“But—” Goshiki shuts his mouth and looks puzzled. “But I want to be the kind of ace people rely on!”

Kenjiro puts his head in his hands. That isn't what Goshiki meant to say, and he almost hates that he understands what Goshiki is thinking. The third years are gone. That happens each year, and each year the team pulls itself together from losing its backbone and moves on. But most years teams don't lose players like Ushijima, and Goshiki is finding his shoes too big to fill. He may not even be aware that he's grasping at straws.

Kenjiro takes a deep breath. He raises his head and says, “Don't worry too much about that.”

“But—”

“Working like you have been will turn you into a... reliable ace.”

Goshiki scrunches up his nose, looking very confused and very much like he’s about to protest. Kenjiro stands suddenly, forcing Goshiki to take a step back to avoid colliding with him.

“Practice is starting soon,” he says, deciding he has to end this conversation immediately, or he’ll go insane. “I won’t ask why you’re in contact with someone from Karasuno. I only ask that you not tell him about anything we’re doing.”

“R-right! I knew that! I mean I don’t!”

Kenjiro levels Goshiki with a look. He doesn’t believe him. But he also doesn’t care as much as he wants Goshiki to believe he does. “And don’t do what Ushijima did and bring him on campus,” Kenjiro says, almost pleading. He then leaves the locker room.

-

Kenjiro leaves practice with a headache, and a clipboard with forms for him to fill out that one of the managers handed him. “I’ll need it tomorrow morning,” she said in a crisp tone. He’ll never admit it, but that manager frightens him a little. He’ll get it back to her in the morning.

He flips through the papers as he shoulders open the doors of the locker room, his gym bag thumping against his leg. “Oh,” says someone in the hallway. “Hey, Shirabu—”

“Sorry, I’m busy,” he says without looking up.

He’s halfway down the hall when he hears Goshiki leave the locker room, and gasp. “Semi! Hi! Happy birthday!”

Kenjiro freezes. He looks back. Goshiki is smiling at Semi, who grins back and says, “Thanks. How’s practice?”

Goshiki frowns, then starts talking to him about overhead receives. Semi tells him basically the same thing Kenjiro did, just a little better and a little nicer, but Kenjiro couldn’t care less about that right now. All he’s thinking about is how _stupid_ he is. He just walked right by him—on his birthday, no less—how _hard_ would it have been to stop and wish him a happy birthday, _really_ —

Kenjiro smacks the clipboard against his forehead in frustration. He takes a few seconds to breathe, then storms down the hallway and around the corner. He doesn’t have to say anything to Semi, he tells himself. They’re not friends. They were only teammates once. He has no obligation to Semi. He owes him nothing. And this time he’ll believe it and stop caring.

-

The sun sets early, like it always does in November. Kenjiro leans back in his desk chair and gazes out his dorm window. His homework is done, as is the paperwork the manager handed him. There’s nothing keeping him in his room and he’s beginning to feel restless.

He stands and grabs his coat. Well. He might as well stretch his legs. Perhaps he can watch the moon rise.

He has to walk through a student lounge to leave the dorm building. There’s always students milling about at this time of day. Kenjiro stops in his tracks when he sees Semi is one of them. Semi’s looking at his phone, and Kenjiro considers bolting until Semi glances up and spots him.

Semi raises his hand in greeting. Kenjiro does the same, then opens his mouth to wish him a happy birthday. Before he can make a sound, Tendou descends from nowhere, saying, “Semisemi! Did you save any cake for me?”

“You had cake at lunch,” Ushijima says, walking in behind Tendou.

“I wouldn’t share with you anyway, not in a million years,” Semi grumbles, a strained look on his face.

“Aww, you don’t mean that, Eita. I’m your favorite!”

Kenjiro can’t be in this room any longer. Not when he’s standing there, staring blankly, like an idiot. He zips up his coat and hurries out the door.

Outside is a blast of cold air. Kenjiro immediately steps off the path. He pulls out the gloves he always keeps in his coat pocket, tugs them on, and walks around the corner of the dorm. The dorms are on a hill, and the best angle to view the moon from at this time of night is this side of the building. The fact that no one will head this way in the dark has nothing to do with his decision.

Kenjiro sighs. He leans back against the cold brick and closes his eyes, listening to the sound of the night. The door opens once more, and there’s voices, but Kenjiro pays them no mind. It’s not unusual for students to be wandering around. The cold will make them hurry along.

The door closes. The air is silent once more. Then, “Oh, there you are.”

Kenjiro jumps. He spins around and is shocked to see Semi, looking at him, trying not to grin at his reaction, wearing a coat but no gloves. “What—” Kenjiro starts, then cuts himself off. He presses his fingers to his forehead and takes a second to breathe. “Hi. Why are you out here?”

Semi’s no longer trying to smile. He tilts his head to study Kenjiro. “You looked a little freaked out. I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Oh _fantastic_. Just want Kenjiro needed: for Semi, the notorious worrywart, to be concerned about him. “I’m fine,” he says evenly. “Just wanted a little air.”

“Well, you know, if you ever—”

“Happy birthday,” Kenjiro interrupts. He looks away and shrugs helplessly. Saying it makes him feel a little better, but more tense at the same time. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Thank you,” Semi says. He looks pleased. “Do you mind if I stay out here for a bit? I like how quiet it is.”

“Do whatever you want,” Kenjiro says.

Semi leans against the wall next to Kenjiro. He looks up at the sky, quietly, a small smile on his face. If Kenjiro’s class president could see him now, she’d be shocked. He’s nothing like the loud guy who walked down the hall at school that morning, nearly bumping into someone in his attempts to avoid Tendou.

Shiratorizawa is some distance away from Sendai, but there’s still plenty of light pollution. Kenjiro took a trip to the countryside when he was a child, and remembers how many stars were in the sky compared to back home. He thinks there’s still enough stars out here, on this clear November night, to make stargazing peaceful. The moon is a bright white glow in the distance, raising slowly above the trees.

Kenjiro feels something rest against his shoulder, and is surprised to find Semi’s slid closer to him, so they’re touching. “It’s cold,” Semi says in explanation when he sees Kenjiro looking. Well, yes, it is. He noticed that. He thinks Semi might be less cold if he weren’t leaning against the freezing brick, or if he’d remembered gloves or a hat, but he thinks he’ll forgive him for it. It’s his birthday, after all.

The stars have a much weaker pull compared to how near Semi is. Kenjiro takes the opportunity to study his face. He’s attractive—it’s simply an objective fact—but Kenjiro’s made a point to avoid looking at him too closely. He was always a little afraid of what he might discover in Semi’s brown eyes, or the gentle curve of his mouth. He finds he likes the enraptured expression on Semi’s face as he looks at the stars.

After a moment, Semi notices his staring. “Do you need something?” he asks, turning his head.

Kenjiro leans in and kisses him.

Well, maybe it can be called a kiss, in the strictest sense of the word. Their lips touch, then Kenjiro realizes what he’s done and shoots back. Semi’s eyes are wide. “Uh, well,” Kenjiro says, hand covering his mouth. “Happy birthday?” Shit, he already said that. “Um. Goodnight.”

Before he can flee, Semi grabs his arm, pulling him back. “Wait. Wait.” Semi takes a breath. “Was that—supposed to be my birthday gift?”

What? Kenjiro’s panicked mind can barely follow. “No? Maybe? If—if you want, I guess...”

“In that case—” Semi still hasn’t let go of Kenjiro’s arm, but his grip isn’t tight. Kenjiro could break away if he wants. He’s not sure his legs would move if he tried. “I’m going to have to be a bit selfish and ask for another one.”

“Oh.” Semi wants to kiss him? Really? That doesn’t seem possible. Somehow, Kenjiro manages to say, “I don’t mind.”

Semi’s nervous as he steps closer and takes Kenjiro’s face in his hands—they’re both nervous, and just a little bit scared. The second kiss is just as brief as the first, but then Semi leans in again and takes a third kiss, and it’s much, much better. Another kiss follows that one, and then another, until their arms are wrapped around each other and Kenjiro’s forgotten the cold.

They pull apart, just slightly. Semi’s hot breath is on Kenjiro’s lips, his cold fingers in Kenjiro’s hair. He’s just starting to formulate a coherent thought—maybe this would be nicer without their bulky coats in the way—when the door slams open.

Kenjiro jumps and pushes Semi away. He stands frozen, listening to whoever is leaving the building. They aren’t visible from this angle. He waits to see if someone is going to turn the corner and find them. He doesn’t breathe again until he sees a few people walking into the distance and out of earshot.

“We should, uh,” Kenjiro says, feeling oddly shy. “We should probably head back in. Someone’s probably looking for you.”

“Hold on, I have a question first.”

Kenjiro waits. Semi rubs the back of his neck. His face looks a little flushed.

“That wasn’t— _just_ because it’s my birthday, right?”

Kenjiro blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“What I mean is,” Semi starts, waving his hands around while he searches for the words. “If I want to kiss you tomorrow, or the next day, you’d be okay with that, right? My birthday was just an excuse?”

Oh. Kenjiro shoves his hands in his coat pockets, just for something to do with them. “I said that by mistake, actually,” he admits. “I didn’t ki—do that because it’s your birthday. I, um, wanted to.”

Semi starts to smile, and it’s almost blinding. “So if I come up to you next week and ask if you want to go on a date, you’d say yes?”

“Probably,” Kenjiro says somehow, despite how hard his heart is thumping against his chest. “If the timing isn't bad.”

“And later, when I meet new people at uni,” Semi says, sounding much more confident than he has any business sounding. “If I introduce you as my boyfriend—”

Kenjiro’s face feels like it’s burning. “I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

Semi laughs and throws an arm around Kenjiro’s shoulders. He kisses him one more time, quick and warm. “Let’s go back in,” Semi says.

Kenjiro is almost sorry when they go inside and Semi has to drop his arm. Semi handing him a plate of birthday cake makes up for it, just a little.

-

The next day at lunch, Semi walks down the second year’s hall once more, this time with Oohira and Yamagata. Semi spots Kenjiro and waves. Kenjiro waves back, and smiles softly as he watches him go.

The class president leans out of their classroom, holding onto the door frame for balance. “That guy again? Doesn’t he have his own classroom to go to?”

“You sure seem to notice him a lot,” Kenjiro comments casually. “I’d give up, if I were you. I hear he’s dating someone now.”

She sputters. “That’s not—I’m not—he’s just loud! It’s annoying!”

“I see,” Kenjiro says, raising an eyebrow to tell her he doesn’t believe her. She groans and stomps back into the classroom.

That was probably mean of him, especially because he’s pretty sure she doesn’t actually have a crush on Semi, but he can’t bring himself to care. Kenjiro smiles to himself. He just had to tell someone about him and Semi, even in such a roundabout way.


	4. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another fic from 2016! this one i wrote in early may. i'd say for shirabu's birthday, but i have a feeling it wasn't. did we even know the shiratori's birthdays at that time...?
> 
> it is interesting to see how my interpretation of this ship has changed. i feel like every semishira i wrote in 2016 deals with shirabu being incredibly nervous when they first get together, and about him kissing aggressively. i don't know when that changed because it sure wasn't a conscious change, lol. i guess i felt like i was writing the same thing over and over and just ditched it. 
> 
> i have no idea what kind of fic i'll post here next, but it'll probably be an au. since i. only have wips for au. y'know.

Shirabu starts tapping his pen against the table impatiently, and Eita finally glances over. Shirabu glares, first at him, then at his homework. He was trying to get Eita’s attention for the past few minutes, Eita realizes. And Eita missed it. Great.

The problem with dating Kenjiro Shirabu is he has trouble articulating what he wants, and it’s up to Eita to try and piece it together. Eita is the only one on their team who can read Shirabu’s mood during practice, so he figured learning how to read Shirabu in a romantic setting would be cake. It didn’t take long to realize how futile that hope was.

Shirabu is impossible, finicky and quick to panic due to inexperience, and Eita has a couple bruises to prove it. The solution would be to let Shirabu initiate everything, if only he weren’t too timid to try. Eita has never known Shirabu to be shy. He can’t wrap his mind around it.

Shirabu sighs roughly, glances at Eita, then frowns at the table. He doesn’t want him to leave, Eita knows. Shirabu has never been afraid to tell Eita when he thinks he’s being annoying. Eita takes a wild guess and puts an arm around Shirabu’s shoulders. Shirabu leans into his touch, which is reassuring. With confidence, Eita tucks his head close to Shirabu’s, and is about to ask him a question when Shirabu turns his head and—oh, he wanted a kiss. 

Kissing Eita can do, even if he still thinks Shirabu kisses too aggressively. He runs his fingers through Shirabu’s silky hair and tilts his head more, gently lulling Shirabu into a slower pace. Kissing is still new to them, as a couple. Maybe they could use more practice. Eita decides that will be his excuse the first time he kisses Shirabu after their club lets out, while they’re alone but still at school. 

Shirabu breaks off the kiss, maybe a little too suddenly. He’s getting nervous. Eita brushes Shirabu’s hair behind his ear, knowing he’ll have to be careful to not set him off, and says, “Hey, Shira—”

Shirabu shoves Eita’s face away with both hands.

Eita sits frozen for a few seconds. He thought he had a little longer before this happened. Was he being hopeful? Maybe this isn’t his fault and Shirabu is extra jumpy because of something that happened earlier. Or maybe he needs to stop trying to take the bite out of Shirabu’s kisses and respond with his own? 

“Can you let go of my face now?” Eita asks. He tries to keep irritation from creeping into his voice, but Shirabu has impeccable hearing. Shirabu’s frown deepens. He scoots a little farther away from Eita and resumes glaring at his homework. 

Eita props his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his fist. Shirabu didn’t try to punch him this time. He’s going to count that as progress. 

Shirabu stares at his homework, looking increasingly upset. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice faltering like he had to force the words out.

Eita studies him. He suspects Shirabu doesn’t like his panicked reactions, either. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, gently. “Take all the time you need.”

Shirabu frowns deeply. He glances at Eita, then subtly holds his hand out. Eita takes it in his own, carefully, gingerly, and laces their fingers together. Eita can feel the tension ease out of Shirabu’s body. He starts writing again, and Eita realizes Shirabu hasn’t touched his homework in at least ten minutes—Eita hasn’t done any work in twice as long.

“I can’t write like this,” Eita complains half-heartedly.

“Learn to write with your left,” Shirabu offers. Eita squeezes his hand, but not tight enough to hurt.


	5. Graceling AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, a little prequel to the graceling au i hope to write some day (but it's low priority, so it may be a while). 
> 
> if i've done my job right, you don't need to be familiar with the graceling trilogy at all in order to understand this fic. however, if it seems interesting to you, i highly recommend the trilogy! you can read them in any order (tho i recommend reading bitterblue last) so they're easy to pick up, the paperbacks are cheap on amazon, and they should hopefully be in a local library if you want to go that route. kristin cashore is a huge writing influence on me. i think her prose is beautiful, descriptive, emotionally resonate, but never goes purple. pick 'em up if you like fantasy stories with genuinely diverse and strong female protagonists! 
> 
> what you might want is a map. i'm sorry these are so small, there aren't any better ones on the internet. this story takes place in the kingdom called nander, which is the northernmost country, in drowden city, which is located around the middle of nander, underneath the largest lake. i've put semi's estate somewhere near those three lakes in the west, but i haven't firmed up exactly where just yet.
> 
> [map one](https://i.imgur.com/oAvO0BF.jpg) /// [map two](https://i.imgur.com/5Xa0XIS.png)
> 
> a note about the culture in the graceling realm: people in this world have only one name, so i'm going with first names for the haikyuu characters. i know sometimes how i use names in my writing confuses some people, so i wanted to explain this one. btw, if anything about my fics ever confuses you, please feel free to ask! i am happy to explain.
> 
> EDIT: i forgot to mention, for those of you who have read the graceling trilogy, this takes place between graceling and bitterblue! i'd say about 3-4 years prior to bitterblue, and semi and shirabu are around 15-16 here. i haven't firmed up the exact timeline yet, though.
> 
> fun fact: this fic alone is longer than the preceding four chapters combined! ...yay.

Eita grows annoyed as he’s led to his rooms. It seems every time he visits Drowden’s castle he’s given rooms that are increasingly out of the way, deeper in the maze of the halls that Eita has almost no hope of memorizing. One day, he thinks bitterly, he’s going to arrive and learn his rooms are in the dungeons.

Sure, Eita’s family refuses to suck up to the king, but he thinks it’s stupid for Drowden to treat them badly. That wouldn’t make anyone come around. Not that Eita and his mother would ever become the king’s lackies, but it’s the principle of the thing.

The steward finally stops at a door, bows, and takes his leave. Eita steadies himself and enters the room. It’s small—not that he minds, it’s not like he brought any belongings with him on his horse—and has a sitting room with a dining table, a bathing room, and the bed in the sleeping quarters is made up nicely. Eita’s pleased to see there’s windows. At least he isn’t going to be forced to suffer in darkness during the day. He changes out of his riding clothes hastily and splashes water on his face, hoping he doesn’t smell too much like horse.

He visits the court a few times a year as his family’s representative. Officially, anyway. It’s not a job he enjoys that much. He doesn’t get along well with the more war-faring lords and ladies and is a terrible ambassador. Unofficially, his reason for visiting is simple—he has a friend he wants to see. They didn’t get along, at first, but he liked Eita’s mother when she was the family representative, and eventually Eita won him over.

Eita finishes lacing up his boots, trying to remember the way back to the main courtyard. The castle is huge, and he’s going to have to hope he’ll stumble across his friend, because asking for him might raise some eyebrows. That is, if he isn’t found first. That guy has a knack for knowing exactly where to be at what time.

Eita closes the door to his rooms behind him, and—is immediately lost. He doesn’t remember where he came from. He picks a direction and walks. And as soon as he rounds the corner, he spots his friend, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for him.

“Kenjiro,” Eita says, a smile growing on his face.

“Lord Eita,” Kenjiro says politely. He looks at Eita with calm, uneven green eyes. “How was your trip?”

“Uneventful,” Eita replies. “The most exciting thing that happened is one of the horses threw a shoe.” Kenjiro’s lips quirk up in the hint of a smile. “I’m always amazed at how easily you find me. What was it this time, your Grace or did you ask a servant where my rooms are?”

Kenjiro is a Graceling, someone who has two different colored eyes and an ability normal people don’t have. Kenjiro’s Grace is a prescient one. The reach of his Grace is vast, but it’s still immature, and sometimes overwhelms him. One thing he seems to have mastered is always knowing where people will be at any given time, though that could also be because another one of his skills is being friendly with the castle servants.

This time the smile on Kenjiro’s face is undeniable. It reaches his eyes—his beautiful green eyes, one a deep emerald, the other the yellow-green of grass in summer. “Why don’t you try to figure it out?” he says. He stands up straighter. “Are you hungry? I’ll take you to the kitchens.”

“Lead the way,” Eita says. He’s content to let Kenjiro show him through the halls. Kenjiro knows where all the shortcuts and secret passages in the castle are, so following him is always an adventure.

The windows are open to the warm spring day. Winter in Nander is always bitterly cold, and Eita spent it holed up in his family’s fortress out west. Everyone always welcomes the relief of spring. “Did you find any good books while I was gone?” Eita asks, assuming Kenjiro probably spent most of winter in the castle library. That’s where Eita met him, when he first started traveling to Drowden City. They have a mutual love of books.

“You’ll see,” Kenjiro answers.

Eita grins. “You never want to make anything easy for me, do you?”

“Being difficult is one of my favorite things to do,” Kenjiro quips. He leads Eita down side passage, nudges a suit of armor aside, and slips into the secret passage behind it. Eita remembers this passageway—and he remembers it not feeling this narrow. He must have gotten bigger since the last time Kenjiro took him this way. He hopes Kenjiro wouldn’t leave him behind if he ever got stuck in one of these secret passages.

They emerge behind a tapestry, in the grand hall with the smell of food wafting around. Eita thinks his nose could show him the way, but he lets Kenjiro take him.

The kitchens are a bustle of activity, as Eita assumes castle kitchens always are. One servant, an older woman, spots Kenjiro enter the room and smiles. “Hello, Kenjiro.” She glances behind him and her smile slips into shock when she recognizes Eita. “Lord Eita! My apologies, I wasn’t aware you were here.”

Eita smiles kindly. “I just arrived, and was brought straight here. I doubt anyone has been told yet.”

He recognizes her fear. She should not have greeted a Graceling without a title before she welcomed a lord of Drowden’s. That’s what convention states, but Eita doesn’t care. He learned from his mother, who was born and raised in Lienid, an island country with different customs, to be kind to servants and to not take offense at minor missteps. His mother must have done the same thing at court, because the servants tend to view him favorably. The woman relaxes.

“Tilly,” Kenjiro says, “is there any food you could spare? I promised Lord Eita a meal.”

“Of course,” the woman, Tilly, says. “I’ll go prepare two plates right away.”

“Three, if you don’t mind,” Kenjiro says. “And pack it up, if it’s no trouble? We’re going into the gardens.”

Tilly nods, bowing slightly to Eita, and hurries away to get their food. Eita raises an eyebrow. “Three?”

Kenjiro shrugs. “There’s someone else in the gardens.”

“I’m happy to eat in the kitchen, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Kenjiro says dryly. “But I don’t want to waste this weather.”

-

Eita insists on carrying the picnic basket Tilly packs for them, and Kenjiro gives in after only five minutes of arguing. He must be hungry, Eita thinks. Kenjiro takes him out the back door of the kitchens, through the vegetable garden, and into a rarely-traversed garden in the back of the castle.

Eita thinks he likes this garden better than the ones in the courtyards. It’s less maintained—not wild or overgrown, Drowden would never abide a mess—but it doesn’t look quite as manicured. It feels more real, since it isn’t being used to impress and intimidate guests.

Kenjiro comes to a stop in a clearing, lined with stone benches. He looks around. Eita thinks he’s choosing a place to sit, but instead he marches up to one of the benches and kicks it. Eita isn’t sure what startles him more: Kenjiro being violent, or the fact that the bench shrieked as soon as his kick landed.

“Tooru,” Kenjiro says impatiently, “get out of behind there.”

A beat passes, then a voice from somewhere in the bushes behind the bench says, “No, not if you’re going to be so mean!”

Eita recognizes that voice. He knows who Tooru is. Anyone who’s spent any significant amount of time at court knows who he is. It’s impossible not to notice Tooru, because he’s tall, charming, and Graced with the ability to force people to listen to his every word. Eita heard Tooru’s reputation as a schmoozer when he first came to court, but after befriending Kenjiro he learned there’s another side to Tooru. Whenever he can, Tooru will find increasingly obtuse hiding places in the castle, and will stay there as long as he pleases. Or until someone finds him. That someone usually being Kenjiro.

The kind of annoyance on Kenjiro’s face is familiar to Eita, too. Kenjiro and Tooru grew up together in the castle nurseries after being taken from their families, so they have a relationship akin to brothers. They’re so different—Tooru with his flamboyance, Kenjiro with his quiet nature—that Eita secretly wonders if they would have become friends had other children in the nurseries befriended them. Most people avoid Gracelings if they can. Even children.

Kenjiro steps back. “Well, alright. If you want to live back there, be my guest. I suppose we’ll just have to eat the lunch I so kindly brought you.”

The bushes rustle, and Tooru pops out of one, pouting. He has one brown eye, and the other a bright teal, and the strangeness of them almost distracts from the leaves in his hair. He frowns deeply. “Kenjiro, you’re so cruel to me.”

“And you need to stop skipping meals,” Kenjiro replies with a clipped tone. He reaches into the basket Eita is still holding and pulls out one of the individually-wrapped lunches. He tosses it carelessly at Tooru, who catches it. “There. Now you have no longer have an excuse to starve to death.”

Tooru frowns at Kenjiro some more, but, perhaps sensing he won’t win, switches to grinning brightly at Eita. “Hello, Lord Eita!” Tooru says, and Eita can feel Tooru’s Grace forcing him to listen. “I’m so glad to see you’ve arrived safely. Kenjiro has been looking forward to your visit, you know. Are you planning on eating in the gardens? I do enjoy the romantic atmosphere, myself.”

When Tooru pauses to breathe, Kenjiro shakes his head to rid himself of the last traces of Tooru’s Grace, then takes Eita by the arm and starts leading him away. “Go back to moping by yourself, Tooru,” Kenjiro tells him before he has the opportunity to speak again.

Tooru shouts after them, and Eita can feel his Grace trying to take hold of him again, but he’s too distracted for it to work. He can count the number of times Kenjiro has touched him on one hand. Kenjiro’s grip on his arm is all he can focus on.

Kenjiro takes him to another clearing, this one with a gazebo in the center. He drops Eita’s arm and takes a step away. “Here’s good,” he says. He glances at Eita. “I should have expected seeing Tooru would go that poorly. I apologize for our behavior.”

“I apologize if I’ve given you the impression I disapprove of how you act around your friend,” Eita says.

Kenjiro’s eyebrows go up. “I apologize for assuming.”

“Are you also going to apologize for keeping me from my meal?”

“Alright, I deserve that,” Kenjiro says, a hint of a smile on his face.

The gazebo is lined with benches but doesn’t have a table installed. Kenjiro and Eita sit on the side with the best view of the path and unpack their lunch. The food Tilly prepared for them is similar enough to field rations he’s lived off of for the past couple weeks—bread, cheese, treated meats, the occasional fresh fruit—that Eita can’t being himself to be excited for it. That isn’t why he agreed to this picnic, though. He would have done it even if they were eating gruel, if it meant he could spend time with Kenjiro.

“Tell me how the lakes are,” Kenjiro says, tearing off a chunk of his bread.

“They’ve thawed nicely,” Eita says. When he doesn’t expand, Kenjiro gives him a flat look. Eita grins. “Alright, alright. Last I heard is the fishing is supposed to be good this year. It seems the harvest will be plentiful as well.”

“Will you be going on the water at all?”

Eita hears the plain curiosity in Kenjiro’s voice. It makes sense to him that a boy who was raised in Drowden City and never allowed to leave would want to hear about Eita’s home, over by the lakes in the west. “My family is not one with a fishery, Kenjiro,” he says, teasingly. “You know this.”

“Yes, well. If I had the opportunity, I’d like to go on a boat, just to see what it’s like.”

“It isn’t that interesting,” Eita says. He layers some cheese and meat on his bread. “It’s mostly dull. That is, if you aren’t hanging over the side of the boat, losing your stomach to seasickness.”

“That seems dull too, in it’s own way,” Kenjiro says idly.

Eita laughs. “True. I’ll tell you what. If the opportunity ever arises, I’ll get you a ride on a boat.”

Kenjiro stares at his food for a moment, then raises his gaze to Eita. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because you want to, you just said.”

“No...” Kenjiro is beginning to look flustered. “What I mean is, why would you do something so generous for me?”

Eita stares at him. “Because we’re friends?”

Kenjiro frowns. His cheeks are colored pink. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s interrupted by a new voice that says, “Kenjiro. I’ve been looking for you.”

Eita looks up, startled. He was too distracted to watch the path to see if anyone was walking by, and so was Kenjiro, judging by his confused blinking. “Lord Wakatoshi,” Kenjiro says, greeting the new arrival. “Hello. Do you need something from me?”

Wakatoshi is the heir to a lordship, like Eita, and a Graceling, like Kenjiro and Tooru, with one silver eye and one purple. This puts him in a unique position. He grew up in the castle nurseries with Tooru and Kenjiro, because, like all Gracelings, he’s considered property of the king. But because of his title, he has more freedoms than Kenjiro and Tooru could ever hope for. A place to live outside of the castle, for one. Respect of members of the court, for another. And, perhaps most importantly, regard of the king.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi says to Kenjiro. “The king requires your audience.” Kenjiro frowns deeply, bowing his head so Wakatoshi won’t see. Wakatoshi turns to Eita next. “Good afternoon, Lord Eita. Forgive me for not greeting you sooner.”

Eita waves off his apology. “You’re robbing me of my companion, Lord Wakatoshi,” he says, keeping his tone light. “I may get lost in the castle without him.”

Not recognizing the joke, Wakatoshi says, “I’ll send for someone to come get you.” Eita resists the urge to sigh. The truth is he’s not happy having Kenjiro taken from him so soon in his visit. Eita doesn’t have many friends his age, and he treasures his time with Kenjiro.

“Come along, Kenjiro,” Wakatoshi says. Kenjiro puts the remainder of his lunch back into the basket, and stands. “Do you happen to know where Tooru is?”

“I haven’t seen him today,” Kenjiro answers. Eita has always been impressed by the smooth way Kenjiro lies. He supposes it comes from growing up at court.

“He’s been difficult to find lately,” Wakatoshi comments. “Someone will be here for you shortly, Lord Eita.” With that, he turns to leave.

“Thank you for your company, Lord Eita,” Kenjiro says quietly. He looks miserable. It’s such a stark change from the quiet excitement when he found Eita outside his rooms, Eita wants to give him a hug. He doesn’t, because it would be unwelcome, and because Wakatoshi might think something strange was going on.

Kenjiro follows Wakatoshi. Eita frowns at the place they disappeared down the path. He doesn’t want a servant to show him around. He’d rather go back and find Tooru, because at least Tooru wouldn’t make him go back to court. But he also doesn’t want to do something cruel to a servant who works very hard, so he waits instead of trying to find his own way.

-

Eita is on his own for the rest of the day. He’s directed from one group of nobles to another, where he has to plaster on a smile and follow along with their conversation. He isn’t suited for this sort of fakeness.

His mother is better at it. She insists he’ll learn, but he thinks all he inherited from her is her Lienid dark hair and tanned skin, though he has his father’s brown eyes instead of the typical Lienid grey. She won’t let him take over his father’s estate until he’s older, so instead she makes him do this.

At dinner Eita sees Tooru sitting at another table, dominating the conversation, and King Drowden is at the head of the room. Eita doesn’t see Wakatoshi, or, more importantly, Kenjiro. He eats his food quickly and excuses himself, claiming he’s tired from the long journey from his fortress.

He gets lost trying to find his rooms, and has to flag down another servant to ask for directions. It’s beginning to feel humiliating.

-

He thinks that Kenjiro might come for him at his rooms again, so Eita waits in the sitting room after he takes a quick bath. The room has some books on a shelf, dusty and old, like they haven’t been handled since before Eita was born. He skims one, not absorbing any of it, waiting.

Eventually it becomes clear Kenjiro won’t be coming for him. Eita tries not to linger on the sting of that rejection. It isn’t Kenjiro’s fault. Of course he should prioritize work the king gives him over some nuisance young lord who can’t negotiate his way out of a sack.

Eita closes the book and stands. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to visit the library this evening, even if it’s getting late and most members of the court must be retiring soon. Well, good, he thinks. He doesn’t like them anyway.

He refuses to ask for help finding his way through the castle again. Eita carefully retraces his steps from earlier that evening, and somehow manages to get himself to the grand hall. He smiles, happy he’s figured one thing out. If he can go to the grand hall, Eita can find his way to most of the important areas in the castle. Including the library. He makes a beeline for it.

The library is too beautiful and grand for a warring king like Drowden, Eita privately thinks. It’s maintained, but not well traveled, and Eita doubts any books have been added to it in years. Still, it has so many books that it would take a lifetime to read them all.

Fires are roaring in the fireplaces closest to the entrance, to fight off the evening chill. Eita picks up a candle from a table and goes to light it in one of the fires. The flicker of light deeper in the library catches his eye. He has a feeling he knows who would be in the library this late.

Lit candle in hand, Eita makes his way through the the stacks, a maze he can confidently navigate. He sees the blazing torches on the wall before he spots the person sitting at a table underneath them, shoulders slumped in unhappiness, twirling a fountain pen on the the table. The occasional flare from the torches illuminates his green Graceling eyes, as vibrant in firelight as they are in the sunlight.

Eita approaches slowly, giving Kenjiro plenty of time to notice him. “You’re going to break the tip,” he says quietly.

Kenjiro sighs and lets the fountain pen clatter to the table. “Who cares? It’s just a pen.”

Something must really be bothering him, if he’s gone for impertinence over his usual affected politeness.

Eita pulls up a chair next to Kenjiro’s and sits down, setting his candle on the table. “I missed you at dinner tonight,” he says.

Kenjiro snorts. “It isn't like we would have been seated together,” he mutters. He rubs his eyes and adds, “Forgive my tone.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Eita tells him.

Kenjiro shrugs. He hasn’t looked at Eita once.

He lets a few moments pass in silence as he watches the light from the fire dance on the walls. “What did the king want?” he finally asks.

“The usual,” Kenjiro says, voice small.

He told Eita all about what Drowden uses his Grace for during Eita’s last visit. Ever since he was a child, Kenjiro was made to predict who would betray the king, or where Wester or Estill would attack next, or even what village he should ransack for whatever thing he wanted at the moment. Kenjiro never explicitly said it, but Eita gleaned that if Kenjiro was ever wrong, Drowden struck him. That’s an exceptionally harsh punishment for a child with an unformed Grace. Eita also understands that Kenjiro would fill in any gaps in his knowledge with lies. He must have implicated so many innocent people, just to protect himself.

That would be bad enough, but Drowden is a king known for exploiting every resource available to him. If he needed someone tortured, he’d send Tooru, to hold their attention and demand information, never letting the pain distract them. Wakatoshi, Graced with immense strength, is the one he sends to break noses and rip off arms. They often do this gruesome work together.

It probably isn’t intentional on Drowden’s part, but everything about this arrangement does nothing but cause pain for Kenjiro. Tooru’s constant hiding is due to his guilt over what he’s done. Wakatoshi has closed himself off emotionally. Kenjiro blames himself, thinking he’s the cause of their suffering. He doesn’t have to say it for Eita to know it’s true.

Eita shifts in his seat. He knows better than to ask what Kenjiro saw, and what he told Drowden. “When do they leave?” is what he asks instead.

“Tomorrow morning.” Kenjiro rolls the pen back and forth. “Tooru probably got a nasty surprise after dinner. Maybe I should have ratted him out, so at least he’d have more time to prepare.”

“He probably appreciates the few hours of freedom you gave him,” Eita says.

“Maybe,” Kenjiro says, unconvinced.

A heavy silence falls over them as Eita struggles to think of something to say. He gets increasingly angry at how helpless Kenjiro looks. “Drowden shouldn’t be allowed to do this,” he says bitterly.

Kenjiro gives him an odd look. “He’s the king,” he says slowly. “It’s his right.”

“It shouldn’t be. A person shouldn’t treat people like this, king or not.” Eita scowls at the table. “King Ror doesn’t behave like this, in Lienid. And Queen Bitterblue set Gracelings free in Monsea. It isn’t an inalienable right of kings to say he owns you and your power is his to use however he wants.”

Kenjiro is staring at him like this is an insane thing to say, and Eita supposes it might be. Friendship or not, he’s saying treasonous things to the Graceling who regularly informs the king of lords and ladies who are looking to steal his throne for themselves. Eita suspects the king has inklings that his family is a long-standing ally of the Council, the international organization dedicated to undermining the rule of unjust kings. Kenjiro does not know this. Kenjiro is supposed to never know this.

Nothing happens for a moment, as Kenjiro continues to stare at him. Eita eventually looks away, embarrassed by his outburst and hoping their friendship is strong enough that Kenjiro won’t tell anyone. He hears Kenjiro sigh, and glances over to see he has his head in his hands, clutching his hair.

“Eita,” he says, taking in a shaky breath. Kenjiro has been foregoing Eita’s title lately, when they’re alone, and Eita is ashamed to say it thrills him to bits. “Eita, I know one day you won’t have a choice. You’ll have to ask me to use my Grace for you. And that’s fine—I forgive you for it—but for now, I want to thank you for never asking.”

“What?” Eita blinks at him. “What do you mean, I won’t have a choice?”

“I don’t know!” Kenjiro sits up suddenly, throwing his arms up and almost knocking the candle over in the process. “I don’t know the context, I just know it’ll happen!” He shrinks in on himself just as suddenly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know any more than that right now.”

“It’s okay,” Eita says, still mystified. “You haven’t done anything wrong. And I’m sorry that I’ll ask one day, whenever that is.”

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Kenjiro whispers.

Eita sits back. He studies Kenjiro, taking in his defeated expression and how he nearly curls in on himself, like he’s trying to be smaller than he is. Eita has seen Kenjiro have moods like this before, in the months before Kenjiro told him why, but he’s never seen Kenjiro look quite this upset. He wants to cheer him up, somehow.

“I have something for you,” he says. “A present. I brought it with me, so it’s still packed away in my bags, but—I think I should give it to you now.”

“...A present?”

“I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I can always find you something else before then—” Eita notices the horrified look Kenjiro is giving him, and panics. “What? What is it?”

Kenjiro stares at him with shock. “You know when my birthday is?”

“I... yes, I asked Tooru—oh, no, did he lie to me? Your birthday is next month, isn’t it?”

“It’s—” Kenjiro stammers. “Yes, I—my birthday—that _bastard_ , why did he tell you? I’m going to kill him!”

Eita has never seen Kenjiro go through so many extreme mood swings in such a short period of time. He’s convinced it’s his fault, for trying to cheer him up. But he can’t stop now. He doesn’t want the next strong emotion Kenjiro experiences to be disappointment. “Kill him later,” Eita says. “I’ll take you to my rooms to give you your present first.”

“No!” Kenjiro shakes his head. “No, I can’t accept it.”

“You can, I insist.”

“You don’t understand,” he whispers. “I can’t. You’re too kind to me already. I can’t.”

“Kenjiro,” Eita says, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re my friend. This is what friends do. Let me give this to you.” Kenjiro stares at his hand, unmoving. Eita continues. “At least just take a look. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to accept it. Please?”

Kenjiro starts, looks at Eita’s face, then back at his hand, which he then pushes away. He blinks rapidly, almost like he’s about to cry. “Fine,” he says, voice steady. “You win.”

Eita wants to tell him giving gifts isn’t about winning, but he doesn’t want to push Kenjiro too far. “Thank you,” he says, standing. “I do think you’ll like it.”

-

Kenjiro follows him listlessly out of the library, and Eita thinks he’s going to remain that way until he notices Eita’s confusion over which hall to take next. Kenjiro then scoffs like his usual self and takes the lead. He directs Eita down a different hall than he came from, one smaller and less-traveled, and they move quickly through the castle. Occasionally they hide around corners or behind tapestries when someone walks by, but, for the most part they see no one.

When they get to Eita’s rooms he immediately starts digging through his bags, looking for a carefully wrapped package. Kenjiro stands in the sitting room with his arms crossed, glaring at the floor. When Eita triumphantly pulls the small, rectangular gift from his things, Kenjiro shifts to glaring at it instead.

“Here,” Eita says, holding it out to him. He doesn’t move. Eita sighs. “Kenjiro. Please.”

Reluctantly, Kenjiro takes it. He turns it over. “What is it?”

“There’s no way you haven’t realized it’s a book,” Eita says impatiently. “Open it.”

Kenjiro rips the paper, which surprises Eita. He expected Kenjiro to be neater than that, or at least open it slowly to annoy Eita. Kenjiro slides the book out of the remaining wrapping, flips it over to read the title, and frowns in puzzlement. “ _Tales of Old Answers_...? I’ve never heard of this book.”

“Look inside,” Eita says, trying to contain his excitement.

Kenjiro flips to a random page, still frowning. He pauses. Flips to another page. His frown fades into amazement as he skims a few more pages. “This is the book that story came from,” he says with naked awe. “That one I found when I was a kid—I only showed it to you once, but you can’t remember how to get to your rooms, honestly Eita—how did you find it?”

Eita can’t help but grin. “It stuck with me, because the illustrations were so weird,” he says. Well, that and Kenjiro having an incomplete short story that someone tore out of a book years ago was odd enough to be notable. Kenjiro is very careful to keep books in good condition. “A neighbor was getting rid of boxes of books, and asked me if I wanted any. I just happened across it.”

The story Kenjiro found is a strange one, about a man who was cursed to live as a beast, and—well, it’s missing the ending. Eita imagines Kenjiro made up his own when he was a child, and he can only hope the real thing lives up to expectations.

Eita thinks it might, judging by Kenjiro’s reaction. He’s obviously overwhelmed. He stares at the book, then shly glances up at Eita. “Would you mind if I stayed here to read a bit...?”

“Stay as long as you like,” Eita says. He’s pleased with himself. Not only has he successfully distracted Kenjiro, he’s impressed him. That’s difficult to do, with Kenjiro’s Grace.

Kenjiro settles on one of the couches in the sitting room. He kicks off his shoes and tucks his legs under him. He then opens the book, and begins devouring it.

Eita sits on the opposite couch. He picks up the old book he attempted to read earlier and decides to give it another go. This time it holds his attention, and he finds himself drawn into the story. Hours pass without his notice.

His eyes start to get tired. He glances up to find Kenjiro curled up on the couch, head nestled on a pillow, book dangling loosely in his hands. He’s fallen asleep. Eita is surprised. Not only did he think Kenjiro was too guarded to let himself fall asleep around others, but Eita also assumed he’d have fallen asleep much earlier, after spending weeks on a horse. Somehow he’s outlasted a notorious night owl.

Eita stands, stretching his stiff limbs, thinking. Kenjiro probably won’t be happy when he wakes up and realizes where he is. Eita also thinks that Kenjiro would be _more_ embarrassed if Eita wakes him up right now, so he decides he’s going to let him sleep. He takes the book out of Kenjiro’s hands and sets it on the table in front of him, so he’ll see it when he wakes. Eita then goes into his sleeping quarters, rifles around in the closet, and comes back with a cozy blanket. He drapes this over Kenjiro.

He goes into his sleeping room, strips down to his underclothes, and collapses into the bed. The pillows smell stale, he thinks, and then he’s asleep.

-

Eita wakes up to sun in his eyes. He squints, glaring at the window. He’ll have to fix the drapes before tonight, so this doesn’t happen again tomorrow.

He’s slow waking up. He yawns while dressing, so forcefully he almost tips over. It doesn’t seem like a maid has been in, so he has to wash his face with cold water. He hopes he hasn’t missed breakfast, and then he remembers Kenjiro.

Eita opens the door to the sitting room slowly. The couch where Kenjiro fell asleep is empty save for the blanket Eita put over him, folded neatly. The book, _Tales of Old Answers_ , is gone as well.

This was a predictable ending, Eita thinks. Kenjiro might have woken up not long after he went to bed, and then snuck back to his room with his knowledge of the secret passages. Or he could have slept to the morning, and left moments before Eita woke. Not that it matters. He took Eita’s present. Hopefully it’s enough to keep him from brooding too much until Tooru and Wakatoshi get back.

Eita leaves his rooms, determined to find the secret passage to the kitchens so he doesn’t have to suffer through yet another court breakfast. Hopefully he’ll run across Kenjiro. But if he doesn’t, well, he’s staying for over a month. There’s plenty of time to catch up.


End file.
